The Witness, Grace Livingston Hill Lutz [the little red hen ebook .TXT] 📗
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- Author: Grace Livingston Hill Lutz
Book online «The Witness, Grace Livingston Hill Lutz [the little red hen ebook .TXT] 📗». Author Grace Livingston Hill Lutz
"You Don't Suppose, Seth," She Appealed--She Always Called Him Seth In
Times Of Crisis--"You Don't Suppose That Perhaps She Mightn't _Want_ To
Come, After All!"
"Well, I Was Thinking, Rachel," He Said, Tenderly, "We'd Best Not Be
Getting Too Set On It. But, Anyhow, We'd Be Ready For Some One Else. You
Know Stevie Always Wanted You To Have Things Fixed Nice And Fancy. But
You Fix It Up. I Guess She's Coming. I Really Do Think She Must Be
Coming! We'll Just Pray About It And Then We'll Leave It There!"
And So With Peace In Their Faces They Arrived At Home, Just Five Minutes
Before The Painter Was Due, And Unloaded Their Packages. Father Lifted
Out The Big Roll Of Soft, Velvety Carpeting, Gray As A Cloud, With Moss
Roses Scattered Over It. He Was Proud To Think He Could Buy Things Like
This For Mother. Of Course Now They Had No Need To Save And Scrimp For
Stephen The Way They Had Done During The Years; So It Was Well To Make
The Rest Of The Way As Bright For Mother As He Could. And This "Bonnie"
Girl! If She Would Only Come, What A Bright, Happy Thing It Would Be In
Their Desolated Home!
But Suppose She Shouldn't Come?
Chapter 12 Pg 64
The Telegram Reached Courtland Friday Evening, Just As He Was Going To
The Dare Dinner, And Filled Him With An Almost Childish Delight. Not For
A Long Time Had He Had Anything As Nice As That Happen; Not Even When He
Made Phi Beta Kappa In His Junior Year Had He Been So Filled With
Exultation. It Was Like Having A Fairy-Tale Come True. To Think There
Had Really Been A Woman In The World Who Would Respond In That Cordial
Way To A Call From The Great Unknown!
He Presented Himself In His Most Sparkling Mood At The House Where He
Was To Dine. There Was Nothing At All Blue About Him. His Eyes Fairly
Danced With Pleasure And His Smile Was Rare. Gila Looked And Drooped Her
Eyes Demurely. She Thought The Sparkle Was All For Her, And Her Little
Wicked Heart Gave A Throb Of Exultant Joy.
Mrs. Dare Was No Longer A Large, Purple Person. She Was In Full Evening
Dress, Explaining That She And Her Husband Had An Engagement At The
Opera After Dinner. She Resembled The Fat Dough People That The Cook
Used To Fashion For Him In His Youth. Her Pudgy Arms So Reminded Him Of
Chapter 12 Pg 65Those Shapeless Cooky Arms That He Found Himself Fascinated By The
Thought As He Watched Her Moving Her Bejeweled Hands Among The Trinkets
At Her End Of The Glittering Table. Her Gown, What There Was Of It, Was
Of Black Gauze Emblazoned With Dartling Sequins Of Deep Blue. An Aigret
In Her Hair Twinkled Knowingly Above Her Coarse, Painted Face.
Courtland, As He Studied Her More Closely, Rejoiced That The Telegram
Had Arrived Before He Left The Dormitory, For He Never Could Have Had
The Courage To Come To This Plump-Shouldered Lady Seeking Refuge For His
Refined Little Bonnie Girl.
The Father Of The Family Was A Little Wisp Of A Man With A Nervous Laugh
And A High, Thin Voice. There Were Kind Lines Around His Mouth And Eyes,
Indulgent Lines--Not Self-Indulgent, Either, And Insomuch They Were
Noble--But There Was A Weakness About The Face That Showed He Was Ruled
By Others To A Large Extent. He Said, "Yes, My Dear!" Quite Obediently
When His Wife Ordered Him Affably Around. There Was A Cunning Look In
His Eye That Might Explain The General Impression Current That He Knew
How To Turn A Dollar To His Own Account.
It Occurred To Courtland To Wonder What Would Happen If He Should
Suddenly Ask Mr. Dare What He Thought Of Christ, Or If He Believed In
The Resurrection. He Could Quite Imagine They Would Look Aghast As If He
Had Spoken Of Something Impolite. One Couldn't Think Of Mrs. Dare In A
Resurrection, She Would Seem So Out Of Place, So Sort Of Unclothed For
The Occasion, In Those Fat, Doughy Arms With Her Glittering Jet
Shoulder-Straps. He Realized That All These Thoughts That Raced Through
His Head Were But Fantasies Occasioned No Doubt By His Own Highly
Wrought Nervous Condition, But They Kept Crowding In And Bringing The
Mirth To His Eyes. How, For Instance, Would Mother Marshall And Mother
Dare Hit It Off If They Should Happen Together In The Same Heaven?
Gila Was All In White, From The Tip Of Her Pearly Shoulders Down To The
Tip Of Her Pearl-Beaded Slippers--White And Demure. Her Skin Looked Even
More Pearly Than When She Wore The Brilliant Red-Velvet Gown. It Had A
Pure, Dazzling Whiteness, Different From Most Skins. It Perplexed Him.
It Did Not Look Like Flesh, But More Like Some Ethereal Substance Meant
For Angels. He Drew A Breath Of Satisfaction That There Was Not Even A
Flush Upon It To-Night. No Painting There At Least! He Was Not Master Of
The Rare Arts That Skins Are Subject To In These Days. He Knew
Artificial Whiteness Only When It Was Glaring And Floury. This Pearly
Paleness Was Exquisite, Delicious; And In Contrast The Great Dark Eyes,
Lifted Pansy-Like For An Instant And Then Down-Drooped Beneath Those
Wonderful, Long Curling Lashes, Were Almost Startling In Their Beauty.
The Hair Was Simply Arranged With A Plain Narrow Band Of Black Velvet
Around The White Temples, And The Soft Loops Of Cloudy Darkness Drawn
Out On Her Cheeks In Her Own Fantastic Way. There Was An Attempt At
Demureness In The Gown; Soft Folds Of Pure Transparent Nothing Seemed To
Shelter What They Could Not Hide, And More Such Folds Drooped Over The
Lovely Arms To The Elbows. Surely, Surely, This Was Loveliness
Undefiled. The Words Of Peer Gynt Came Floating Back Disconnectedly,
More As A Puzzled Question In His Mind Than As They Stand In The Story:
"Is Your Psalm-Book In Your 'Kerchief?
Do You Glance Adown Your Apron?
Do You Hold Your Mother's Skirt-Fold?
Speak!"
But He Only Looked At Her Admiringly, And Talked On About The College
Games, Making Himself Agreeable To Every One, And Winning More And More
The Lifted Pansy-Eyes.
When Dinner Was Over They Drifted Informally Into A Large
White-And-Gold Reception-Room, With Inhospitable Chairs And Settees
Whose Satin Slipperiness Offered No Inducements To Sit Down. There Were
Gold-Lacquered Tables And A Curious Concert-Grand Piano, Also Gold
Inlaid With Mother-Of-Pearl Cupids And Flowers. Everything Was Most
Elaborate. Gila, In Her Soft Transparencies, Looked Like A Wraith Amid
It All. The Young Man Chose To Think She Was Too Rare And Fine For A
Place So Ornate.
Presently The Fat Cooky Arms Of The Mother Were Enfolded In A Gorgeous
Blue-Plush Evening Cloak Beloaded With Handsome Black Fur; And With Many
Bows And Kindly Words The Little Husband Toddled Off Beside Her,
Reminding Courtland Of A Big Cinnamon Bear And A Little Black-And-Tan
Dog He Had Once Seen Together In A Show.
Gila Stood Bewitchingly Childish In The Great Gold Room, And Shyly Asked
If He Would Like To Go To The Library, Where It Was Cozier. The Red
Light Glowed Across The Hall, And He Turned From It With A Shudder Of
Remembrance. The Glow Seemed To Beat Upon His Nerves Like Something
Striking His Eyeballs.
"I'd Like To Hear You Play, If You Will," He Answered, Wondering In His
Heart If, After All, A Dolled-Up Instrument Like That Was Really Meant
To Be Played Upon.
Gila Pouted. She Did Not Want To Play, But She Would Not Seem To Refuse
The Challenge. She Went To The Piano And Rippled Off A Brilliant Waltz
Or Two, Just To Show Him She Could Do It, Played Humoresque, And A Few
Little Catchy Melodies That Were In The Popular Ear Just Then, And Then,
Whirling On The Gilded Stool, She Lifted Her Big Eyes To Him:
"I Don't Like It In Here," She Said, With A Little Shiver, As A Child
Might Do; "Let's Go Into The Library By The Fire. It's Pleasanter There
To Talk."
Courtland Hesitated. "Look Here," Said He, Frankly, "Wouldn't You Just
As Soon Sit Somewhere Else? I Don't Like That Red Light Of Yours. It
Gets On My Nerves. I Don't Like To See You In It. It Makes You
Look--Well--Something Different From What I Believe You Really Are. I
Like A Plain, Honest White Light."
Gila Gave Him One Swift, Wondering Glance And Walked Laughingly Over
8. Education In Native Language; Native Languages Everywhere To
Have Equal Rights With Official Language.
9. Every Nationality In The State To Have The Right Of
Self-Definition.
Chapter 12 Pg 66
10. The Right Of All Persons To Prosecute Officials Before A Jury.
11. Election Of Magistrates.
12. A Citizen Army Instead Of Ordinary Troops.
13. Separation Of Church From State And School From Church.
14. Free Compulsory Education For Both Sexes To The Age Of
Sixteen.
15. State Feeding Of Poor Children.
16. Confiscation Of Church Property, Also That Of The Royal
Family.
17. Progressive Income Tax.
18. An Eight-Hour Day, With Six Hours For All Under Eighteen.
19. Prohibition Of Female Labor Where Such Is Harmful To Women.
20. A Clear Holiday Once A Week To Consist Of Forty-Two Hours On
End.
It Would Be A Mistake To Suppose That This Very Moderate Program Embraced
All That The Majority Of The Social Democratic Party Aimed At. It Was Not
Intended To Be More Than An Ameliorative Program For Immediate Adoption By
The Constituent Assembly, For The Convocation Of Which The Social Democrats
Were Most Eager, And Which They Confidently Believed Would Have A Majority
Of Socialists Of Different Factions.
In A Brilliant And Caustic Criticism Of Conditions As They Existed In The
Pre-Bolshevist Period, Trotzky Denounced What He Called "The Farce Of Dual
Authority." In A Characteristically Clever And Biting Phrase, He Described
It As "The Epoch Of Dual Impotence, The Government Not Able, And The Soviet
Not Daring," And Predicted Its Culmination In A "Crisis Of Unheard-Of
Severity."[5] There Was More Than A Little Truth In The Scornful Phrase. On
The One Hand, There Was The Provisional Government, To Which The Soviet Had
Given Its Consent And Its Allegiance, Trying To Discharge The Functions Of
Government. On The Other Hand, There Was The Soviet Itself, Claiming The
Right To Control The Course Of The Provisional Government And Indulging In
Systematic Criticism Of The Latter's Actions. It Was
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